


Slide

by Jane St Clair (3jane)



Category: Lost Boys (1987)
Genre: Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-08
Updated: 2011-08-08
Packaged: 2017-10-22 09:59:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3jane/pseuds/Jane%20St%20Clair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knows, on some level, that Sammy's been kissed for the first time recently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slide

Michael wakes up and finds Sammy curled asleep on the floor with  
Nanook against him. Stripped down to his boxers and one of Michael's  
t-shirts, because while this might not be Arizona, Grandpa's list of  
necessary luxuries doesn't include air conditioning.  When they go  
to bed it's always steaming hot.  The fact that it's cold by morning  
doesn't really register until Michael's shivering and asleep.

It's still an hour or so before real morning.  Michael's not sure  
whether Sammy woke him or whether it's just that he doesn't sleep  
normally anymore.  The short, brutally weird vampire incident may  
only have killed the vampires, but it disrupted his sleep cycles in  
a way that's looking to be permanent.  It's one of the things he'll  
get used to; by the time he's middle aged he'll just be another  
California insomniac.  He should try napping in the sun during the  
day to get the requisite state tan.  Take up night surfing.

Cliff diving, maybe.

Nanook shifts away from Sammy and stares up at Michael.  Michael  
makes a mental note to find out if there were werewolves in their  
old neighbourhood, because he's never really been convinced that the  
dog is a dog.  Just a big, fluffy, possibly sociopathic guy who  
likes to cuddle with Sammy.

Sammy reaches after Nanook and sits up when he doesn't touch  
anything.  "Mmmmm?"

"Hey."

Sammy doesn't open his eyes, but he staggers over, drops into bed  
beside Michael and burrows in.  He smells like shampoo and the dish  
soap he uses as bubble bath.  His skin is cold.

It's October now.  Still unreasonably hot in the late part of the  
day.  The heat's not something they have to deal with as long as  
they're in school, where the a/c keeps them practically frozen and  
Sammy's collection of cardigans fits him in with his new collection  
of friends.  Very clean, very cheerfully media-fed boys and girls  
with a taste for very bright colours.  Tiny birth stone earrings  
seem to be their new, small, highly acceptable rebellion, but Sammy  
got bored with his. Just this tiny, clean scar on his right lobe.

A very soft mouth presses into his neck, muttering things Michael  
can't hear.

He knows, on some level, that Sammy's been kissed for the first time  
recently.  One of his sweeter-faced fellow candidates for junior  
yuppiedom.  Very pretty, soft boy with a taste for cologne that  
Sammy's -- so far -- decided not to imitate.  He rides a very pretty  
mountain bike and blushes too easily, and he and Sammy are newly  
Very Best Friends.  

Sammy came home maybe two weeks ago with very human looking bite-  
marks on his neck. Since then, he's been slipping into Michael's  
bedroom at night.  He doesn't climb into the bed until Michael's  
awake, but when he does, he doesn't usually move again until full  
morning. Then gets up, showers, goes off to school in full bounce-  
mode, without Michael.

Michael goes after him, and he has the advantage of the motorcycle,  
but he's always late.  Most of the time he wishes he could get high,  
stay outside, lurk in the late-fall California sunshine. The  
school's chemical chill reminds him of David.  Cold skin and coastal  
fog.  That first utterly disembodied fuck, falling through the not-  
quite dark with David's voice crawling over him.  The stretch in his  
ass that didn't seem to be connected to any kind of body contact.    
Long seconds when he didn't believe David would let him come, that  
he'd hang in that air forever.  Then actually yelling when David  
pushed him over, and when Sammy woke him there was dried semen on  
his belly and an ache inside him that made it all not-a-dream.

Nothing since has been as good as that.  Not mornings when he beats  
off fast and hard in the shower.  Not afternoons after school when  
he tries to slide back inside his own skin, sprawled at the far edge  
of the back yard, far enough into the trees that he's pretty much  
invisible.  Not the two girls at parties, the one frantic night with  
Star that barely got him off, that one hard kiss and rub-off with a  
sort-of friend while they were both cutting class.

When Michael's in class, his fantasies keep morphing, from Star to  
David to.  Sammy.  Slick-skinned and impossibly clean in the  
bathtub.  The way Sammy smells against him in the early morning.    
Sammy's mouth against his throat, and the occasional small hand  
holding Michael's hip.  Teenaged-boy erections that Sammy never  
acknowledges and never seems to worry about.

Sammy's lips slide across the back of Michael's neck.  It's not  
Sammy's usual sleep-kiss: it's open and pleadingly erotic.  It  
almost overwhelms the press of Sammy's cock against him.  

"Michael?"

"Yeah.  Who else would it be?"

"Yeah, okay."

Still for a minute, and he's sure Sammy's going to go back to sleep.    
Thinking maybe he should go for a walk since he's not going to sleep  
again tonight.  But Sam kisses him again, more carefully, right  
behind the ear.

Pinning Sam down is a patented big-brother move, faster than the  
speed of brat.  Heavy on top of the squirming boy in his bed, not  
quite threatening enough for Nanook to dive in and take Sammy's  
side.  Sammy should be fighting the hold, but he's not trying to get  
loose.  Just moving. Against Michael.

Until.  This fast twist wraps Sammy completely around him.  Legs  
around his waist, hands holding Michael's face, and the kiss is  
fiercer than anything Michael could have expected.  It's wetter than  
anything any of the girls he's fucked have offered him.  The push of  
Sammy's hips doesn't need any response from him.  It's frantic and  
mostly self-interested.  The tiny breaths against Michael's neck  
don't resolve into sound until the moment Sammy groans out loud, and  
Michael's left with wet skin and clammy boxers against his still  
mostly-dry ones.

"Jesus, Sammy."

"Oh god, Michael."  Pause, then, "Oh jeez.  I'm sorry," but softly.    
Without really sounding sorry at all.  Just.  Relaxed.  Happy and  
limp and settling in to nuzzle Michael until morning.

Michael's still hard.  He didn't notice getting that way, but it  
aches now.  Sammy's hand around the base of his cock feels very,  
very good.

There's this soft, clean boy against him, wiggling out of his shirt  
and shorts and working Michael out of his clothes as well as he can.  
Straddling him, naked over Michael's thighs, still holding Michael's  
cock.  Half-hard again already.  Sammy strokes them both and waiting  
for Michael to say something.

What comes out of Michael's mouth is, "Get off."

Sammy shatters.  He scrambles off instantly, on the wrong side of  
the bed to be able to get out the door.  Crouches with his hands in  
front of him and chews on his lips like he's going to cry.

"On the bed."  Even from a distance, Sammy smells sharp and sour,  
like sweat and semen and adrenaline.  "On your stomach."

"Oh man, Mike."

"You want this?  Do it."

"Yeah.  I want it."

"You know I love you."

"You're my brother."  Sam folds himself down, still braced on one  
knee but pressing his face against the blankets.  "I love you too."

"Good."

This perfect baby ass offered to him.  Clean and nearly hairless,  
shaking a bit but not enough to make him believe that Sammy doesn't  
want this.

Michael says, "When he kissed you, what did you do?  Together."  He  
rubs both his thumbs along Sammy's tailbone.

"We just.  We made out."

"Where did he kiss you?"  Breathes on that same path of skin.

"On the mouth.  On the neck.  He sucked on one of my nipples."    
Michael mouths him.  "He twisted it too."

"Did you like it?"

"Yeah.  A lot.  Enough that when he, uh, stopped, I kissed his  
dick."

"You sucked him."

"I'd suck you if you wanted me to."

The thought's enough to make Michael ache all over.  He'll ask Sammy  
for that, later.  In the afternoon, in the yard, in the sun, when  
Grandpa's in his shop and can't see them, he's going to unzip and  
watch Sammy kneel between his feet and suck him off.  Make Sammy  
wait, don't let him come.  Then pull that skinny, sexy body into his  
lap and jerk him off and kiss him until he yells.

Later.  Right now, Michael has a naked boy offering him just about  
anything in his bed, and if they're quiet . . .

"Shut up."  Michael bends, spreads Sammy's ass cheeks, and licks  
him.  Right *there*.  The moan he gets is enough to make him do it  
again.  He's clean here too, just tastes like skin and salt.    
Pushing his hips back into Michael's face.  So.  He tongues and  
licks, working Sammy open and making him spread open like a perfect,  
tiny slut.

"Michael . . ."

"Shut up."

The first finger goes right in.  Spit-slick and hot, and Sammy's ass  
is the tightest place he's ever been.  He rubs the little hard bump  
and Sammy wails.  It's muffled by the pillow against his face, but  
he's still loud enough that Michael freezes.  Thinks what'll happen  
if he gets caught with his fingers in Sammy's ass.  Death.  Then  
taxidermy.  Unless, in a post-vampiric world, this is a state of  
weirdness that won't even invite comment.

"Sammy, you have to *shut up*."

"I'm trying.  It's just, jeez, Michael, I've got you in my *ass*."

"Not yet."

Two fingers, fast enough that Sammy doesn't have time to yell again.    
And as long as Michael doesn't rub him again, he's gonna stay quiet,  
probably.  Three fingers, and even Michael can feel that stretch.    
Sammy's panting now, blond head shaking between his arms.  Loose  
hair in his eyes.

Tight and dry like this isn't going to work, though.  He's got slick  
somewhere, that he uses for the few times he risks jerking off in  
the house outside the shower.  Jelly on his fingers, inside Sammy,  
and this time the moan sounds a bit less frantic and a bit more oh-  
yeah-do-that-again.

"Get up on your knees.  Bend over."  Their baby.  His Sammy.  This  
virgin body he's going to work over until it gives out completely.    
Make Sammy feel it all day, while he's trying to sit still and look  
all bright eyed and bushy tailed in class.  "Breathe out."  Warning  
nobody gave Michael before David took him.

Slick on his cock, slick inside Sammy.  Michael holds Sammy very  
still while he pushes in, while Sammy pants through the stretch.    
Cock in his baby ass.  "Oh man, Michael.  Oh wow."

In deeper.  In so far Sammy's ass pushes against Michael's stomach.    
In so deep he's sure Sammy can feel this all the way to his heart.

"Michael . . ."

"Hold on."  Michael pulls out, holds there for a second.  Lets Sammy  
feel the space where he was, then goes in hard.  And fucks him.    
Deep and hard, bending Sammy as close to double as he can get.  Like  
he could crawl inside that smaller, cleaner skin.  Mark Sammy up in  
ways that'll look so much like his post-new-wave mutant-alien  
fashion sense that no one will believe he's naked.

Michael pulls out.  "Roll over."  Better, maybe, with Sammy looking  
at him.  One of those barely-tanned legs on Michael's shoulder, one  
around his waist.  In hard and deep and clinging to this boy under  
him.  Tongue in Sammy's mouth.

Very, very quietly, like he hasn't got any breath left, Sammy  
whispers, "Michael?"

"Yeah?"  Hard in, working his body over Sammy's.  God, perfect skin.

"I love you."

And.  Just like that.  Michael comes so hard he can feel it in his  
ass, like the burn in Sammy is sliding back into him.  Sammy wraps  
around him and kisses him frantically, all over his face. Tiny, soft  
mouth surrounded by the too-soft skin of a boy who doesn't even  
shave yet.  Maybe too slick-clean to shave ever.

He holds steady over Sammy while he shakes his way back to a state  
of brain-in-body.  Pulls out just before his whole body gives out  
and he collapses.  Slides off without moving Sammy's leg first,  
which means Sammy rolls with him.  Both of them on their sides while  
Sammy kisses him and pants and twists and jerks himself off again.    
Maybe two strokes before he's sticky fingered.

"Mmmph."  

Sammy drops one very careful, strangely dry kiss on Michael's mouth,  
then touches his fingers to it.  Wetness that Michael licks away  
without thinking about it.  And then has to think about it, the way  
Sammy tastes.  Soft little cock against him that he could have taken  
care of, if his brain had been working just a bit better at the  
time.

Michael lets the fingers go and Sammy crawls off him. Stretches in  
the early-morning too-bright light.  Naked belly showing every flat  
muscle.

His whole face is raw from kissing Michael.  No one's going to miss  
their guess on what happened to him, unless makeup is the latest  
addition to the almost-girl look Sammy's friends have going.

"C'mere."  Michael pulls Sammy over his hip.  Rubs his ass and  
spreads it.  The hole he touches is warm and slick, wet and leaking  
a bit.  Sammy whimpers when he rubs it.  "Hurts?"

"Not really."

"Are you gonna feel it?"

"Yeah.  All day.  Oh man, school."  And he's gone, out of bed and  
moving fast, and oh yeah, time flies.  It's later than it should be,  
late enough that Mom's going to come looking for them in a minute.    
And Sammy needs another bath.  Shower.

God.  Naked, slick boy in the shower with him.  He could probably  
take Sammy again, and nobody would even hear them over the water.

The bathroom door's shut when Michael reaches it.  Not locked, since  
there isn't a look, but the hook-and-eye latch at the top is closed.    
So.  Very quiet recon, just to be absolutely sure that Grandpa and  
Mom are downstairs.  After which he can lift the latch with the  
spine of a comic book and be in before Sammy even feels the draft.

Sammy's in the shower.  Not his usual, but bathtime and late-for-  
school don't combine the right amount of fun, probably.  He's  
hunched under the water and bent slightly, looking down at his  
cock like it's some interesting animal.  Rubbing his stomach like it  
feels really, really good.

Michael pulls the shower curtain back, and Sammy stares at him.  And  
then smirks.  Slides out of Michael's first grab like he was waiting  
for it.  Grinning like an idiot, clean like he might just run out of  
the house naked.  

Whil Michael's off-balance, Sammy darts in and hugs him.  Wet boy-  
mark on Michael's clothes, kiss on his currently bare chest, and  
Sammy's gone.  Running, trailing a towel, like someone who's been  
waiting his whole life to be hunted.


End file.
